Normal Like You
by The Water Daemon
Summary: Years after committing himself, Dr. Death has a run in with a former co-worker. Rated R for violence, cursing, drug use and Dr. Death's bad accent. Songfic.


Author's Note: Hey! ^_^ This is.er, my second "completed" Neopet fic.my others ones kinda went to waste. Just remember, it's rated R for a reason- there's some blood, lots of insanity, and a lot of swearing. Plus, Dr. Death's accent is bad enough to warrant a boost in ratings. ;) (I suck at accents. ;.; I was going for New York cabbie, but ended up with something like drunken hick.) If by some strange reason my fic sounds like yours, it's probably purely coincidental, unless you happened to write "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest." O.o Neopets doesn't belong to me, and being the shameless klepto with names that I am, the name "Rose" for that bubbly little Uni was created by KarmaLeafbarer. (I could be wrong.) In any case, I think I did a horrible job with the songfic, (to "Normal Like You" by Everclear) but that's for you to decide and me to find out.in reviews! XP Oh yeah.apparently the lyrics turn up really sucky, because of the formatting on ff.net. Eh, it's pretty obvious where the lyrics are, though, so have fun.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
/Today, medical science recognizes  
  
That some folks are not helped by relaxing exercises./  
  
Pain. It seemed everyday he awoke in this white hot blistering pain. The region it touched was not specific, for if it were, it would not be as agonizing as it proved to be then. If it were located in his arm, the men in white suits would easily be able to treat it through area-target therapy or, if push came to shove, electric shock therapy. But no, this pain radiated from every pore in his body, aching every inch of his skin, all of his internal organs. Again the exercises had fixed nothing-they left him only in more excruciating pain-an ever-present feeling that wracked through his body, an endless plague.  
  
Opening his mouth, he gave a long, low groan, throwing his head downwards into the pillow, trying to avoid the cursed sunlight streaming in through the open window. His grayed hair flopped over his eyes, obstructing some of the sunlight along with the pillow, but not near enough to allow him to go into the painlessness of sleep. It seemed God was just out to spite him with the infernal sunshine. It gave him a pounding headache, and only increased the invisible pain even more so.  
  
'Cigarette,' his mind cried out, in an almost primitive fashion, as if the tobacco smoke were as vital to him as water, food and shelter. 'Need.cigarettes!'  
  
/In cases of difficult tension And nervous apprehension./  
  
His hand shot out from underneath the tangled covers and slammed down on the bed-stand in an almost undead manner. His hand smashed a small cup of medicine that had been left out for him during the night. He swiped them off the bed-stand, grumbling to himself about the damned controllers within the pills and watched them out of the corner of his eye as they fell to the floor, scattering about. His fingers grazed over an alarm clock and a piece of paper where a carton of cigarettes should've been-something usually unconventional in this place, for they figured he would take it upon himself to use it to slice his skin to pieces. Curious, he picked it up and rolled over on his back to read it, squinting at the cursive handwriting.  
  
No more ruin of your lungs, Charon Thanatos. -The Staff  
  
"Fuck'rs." he muttered to himself, crumpling the piece of paper in one hand. Giving a scream of anxiety, he whipped the paper in aggravation against the wall. "Takin' away my cigarettes.all dem other drugs don' work, and dey take 'way da one dat does! MOTH'R FUCK'RS!" he roared, and his headache only pounded even more against the volume of his voice. His rage, though, like everything else, subsided swiftly, leaving him motionless to the bed, only the rising and falling of his chest any indication of life. He had wasted too much energy in his anger, and was left to catch his breath.  
  
/Doctors are now prescribing medicine./  
  
Slowly, his eyes drifted towards the pills scattered on the floor. They came in many shapes and sizes, but he knew they were all the same-all designed to alter the way his brain worked, to banish what they called hallucinations. "Not imaginin'.really there." he mumbled to himself defiantly, although nobody was around to hear his rebellion against the pills that were constantly set out for him. He lifted up his hands so he could see them, turning them around, inspecting every crevice. "How can' dey see da dirt.so.dirty."  
  
Scratching at bit at the dirt, he sighed, and rolled over in the bed, reaching down to the pills on the ground. Although he hated them, he knew he had least had to pretend to take them. Scooping them up, he gripped them tightly. "Nonea it works.not fer sickness.not fer depression.it's all fucked.dem bastards don' know shit." Frustrated, he felt tears coming into his eyes. Shaking them away, he lifted his hand up to his mouth. "Bombs'way." Tilting back his head, he downed all nine of the pills at once, falling backwards back into the bed.  
  
He could feel them squeezing down his esophagus, penetrating into the depths of his stomach, acting as the invaders that they were. Grasping his stomach as they plopped down leisurely into his stomach acid, he dug his other hand's fingernails into the back of his hand, pulling them down slowly. "Ahhh." The direct pain was pleasing, opposed to the indirect, indistinct pain. He drew no blood-they clipped his nails short enough that he could not do any more than just leave a few red marks behind. Still, it gave him enough satisfaction for the time being.  
  
/It makes those feel who they're about to give up Feel as if they're ready to begin. Wiping their darkened spirits good-bye, With the calming peace.of a cloudless sky./  
  
Nothing about him was calm as soon as the pills had entered his system. His stomach seemed to be wracked with a terrible pain, shifting it and squeezing it extensively. He was convinced his body was contorting, and as he lifted up his hand, his eyes convinced him of the same reality, his skin seeming to shrink before his eyes, his muscles wasting away to nothing, leaving only the bone.  
  
"That'll show `em.dey killed me, dey killed me."  
  
However, his attention was jolted from his hand as the door opened, a nurse of the Shoyru type dressed completely in uniform white scrubs walked into the room, a tray with food held in her hand. Her demeanor was overall cheery, but he merely glared at her-he knew it was all a façade. "Good morning, Dr. Death!" she said in a bright voice, seemingly oblivious to his 'insanity.' "It's a wonderful morning.will you be wanting to go for a walk this morning?" she questioned, putting the tray on the bed-stand. He glared at her momentarily, and then turned over in the bed to face the window.  
  
"It's Dr. Thanatos." he grumbled, pulling his sheets up over his head. "Dere is no need fer the mock'ry in yer voice when ya say doctor either.I earned dat MD fair 'n square, n'matter whatcha think, bitch. And no walks. Dey tire me, as does yer falsehood of cheeriness."  
  
"Oh, don't be grumpy, Dr. Thanatos. No need for cursing. And besides, I've brought you a nice hot breakfast."  
  
"Rigged wit' drugs, I bet. Lookit whatcha did ta me witcher medication, bitch!" he shouted, holding up his hand. He could nearly see her through it. The nurse stuck out her bottom lip and shook her head, giving a tsking sound. He knew her mannerisms all too well-that meant it had all been in his mind, although he was quite certain that she was just blind to all the realities he was able to see. "Go way," he muttered unhappily. "Get me soap."  
  
/They said you called me maybe yesterday. I don't even have the strength to pick up the phone./  
  
"I know just the thing to cheer you up," said the nurse, as if she had just had some sudden revelation. "Today, guess who called, just for you? I bet you'll never guess."  
  
"Dr. Frank Sloth," replied Dr. Death bitterly, closing his eyes.  
  
"Oh, don't be so difficult. That cute little Uni you used to work with at the Adoption Center. What's her name? Ah, yes, Rose," said the nurse, nodding, beginning to open the small, plastic packages containing food. Dr. Death, however, tensed up suddenly, all the muscles in his back contracting. His heart sped up to a remarkable rate, thundering inside of his chest. He flipped over in the bed and threw his legs over the side of the bed.  
  
"Rosie? Whatchee say?" he asked, grabbing the nurse by the collar of her uniform firmly. "Whatchee say?!" demanded Dr. Death, his eyes bugging just slightly. The nurse, gasping a little bit, but not overly surprised as she had worked with many similar patients before, collected herself and pushed away from Dr. Death firmly, knocking him back into the bed. Again he had burned out his energy too quickly, and laid down on the bed.  
  
"Now that's better, isn't it, Dr. Thanatos? No need to panic. She just wanted you to call back-"  
  
"Can' call back. Don' have phone. Too tired."  
  
"You didn't let me finish, Dr. Thanatos. She said call her back if you're feeling up to it-but she's coming to visit tomorrow." Another burst of energy flooded through Dr. Death's body, and he shot up into a sitting position, turning towards the nurse and looking sternly at her.  
  
"What time?"  
  
"Oh, about three in the afternoon. It'll be right after your therapy."  
  
"Bad timin'," muttered Dr. Death, his hands reaching for a pocket that wasn't there that contained cigarettes that didn't exist. "Dammit, you bas'tids tooka way mah cigarettes again.can' I jist git one?" hollered Dr. Death, grasping at his sheets. "Da lack `a nicotine'll make me even crazier den you tink I am now."  
  
"Now, Dr. Thanatos."  
  
/You wouldn't even know me since you went away. The Prozac doesn't do it for me anymore./  
  
"Don' 'now Dr. Thanatos,' me. It's'all mock'ry witchoo, pr'tendin' dat you b'lieve what-ti say. Fuckin' wit my mind.just sell it ta me straigh', an' gimme a bar `a soap." He paused, and then sighed, letting his head hang low, nearly into his lap. "Ah, God, I don' want Rosie ta see me like dis.I don' wan' her seein' me all.crazy-like. No.no." He held his hands up to his face, hiding it. Tears began to slide down his face rapidly, leaking through his hands. "I neva want'd her ta see me like dis.dat's why I jus' leff dat day.how'd she.how'd she fin' me?"  
  
"You don't have to cry, Dr. Thanatos.she genuinely wants to see you," said the nurse, putting her hand supportively on his shoulder. "There's nothing to be ashamed of."  
  
"Nothin' my ass!" shouted Dr. Death, and his hand shot out, grabbing the plastic fork that was on the tray. Wielding it as one would with a dagger, he plunged it down into his wrist, ripping his flesh viciously. The nurse gasped, drawing backwards at the sudden sight of bright red blood on Dr. Death's stark yellow skin. She grabbed at his hand, wrenching the fork from his grasps, wiping the blood from the bright white of the plastic. Throwing it into the garbage, she swallowed.  
  
"Dr. Thanatos, you know the rules. Utensils are not to be used to harm one's self."  
  
"Fuck you, bitch," snarled Dr. Death. "Take 'way da damn plasticware iffin ya need ta, just let me eat in peace, eh?" he asked, and lay back down in the bed, closing his eyes. The nurse stuck out her bottom lip again. Her eyes wandered to the floor to the fallen plastic cup on the ground. Bending down, she picked it up. Rattling it a little, she discovered that there was one last pill that Dr. Death hadn't taken.  
  
/You ought to take your medication everyday, Be a good dog, live your life in a wonderful way./  
  
"You missed one, Dr. Thanatos."  
  
"Take it yerself, bitch, see whattit does ta you."  
  
"You must take your medication. If you don't, you won't get better, and Rose will never see you in the way that you want her to. You don't want it to be that way, hmm?" asked the nurse, shaking the pill some more.  
  
"Don' you bring her inta dis, bitch.gimme some soap an' maybe I'll take yer min' bend'rs," he griped, rubbing his temples. The nurse shook her head, sighing. Shaking it onto the palm of her hand, she held it out for Dr. Death without saying anything else to convince him to take it. He turned eyes of daggers onto her, eyes narrowed. Keeping his eyes locked on her, he picked up the pill from her hand and placed it in the back of his mouth, swallowing it.  
  
"There, that's a good boy," said the nurse, ruffling his gray hair in the manner that one would compliment a dog or a very young child. "Now, let's get some good food into you, eh?" she said. "Then we can get you all washed up and over to therapy. How does that sound?"  
  
"Absolutely peachy," replied Dr. Death sarcastically. The nurse ignored the manner in which he had said it and took it literally as she reached down for the spoon that had been in the set with fork. (There had been no knife in the set due to the fact that those that ran the kitchen for the asylum found that knives would be more likely to be used as weapons.) Picking up one of the small containers, she scooped up a spoonful of canned pears.  
  
"Open up," she squealed. Dr. Death had a very strong urge to pull the fork from her hand and end her life at that very moment. But, instead of reacting to his violent tendencies, he subdued himself to allow to be humiliated in such a fashion, and opened his mouth for her to deposit pears into.  
  
/Tell me why, you want to be blind? I don't wanna be normal like you. I know now, everyday, I get closer to the place inside where I can be normal too./  
  
'We only want you to be.regular enough to rejoin society, Charon. It's not that we desire to degrade you. These steps are necessary to.'  
  
"Fuck'r." Dr. Death muttered to himself, letting the warm water pound against his already excessively slimy skin. Others around him did the same- namely, just stood under the water without moving, muttering things to themselves. Dr. Death had convinced himself that he was not as bad as them, however-although it still troubled him: could a man who is insane truly know he was such? Muttering to himself, he grabbed the soap and began scrubbing intensely at his skin.  
  
Still, there was nothing he could do to avoid the prying eyes of the male nurse always present in the shower room to supervise them and ensure their safety. Dr. Death hated his presence-it was difficult to shower with anybody watching you, let alone someone who was supposed to. Turning around to face the nurse that watched them, he held out his hands and gave a shout. "Yo, pansy-lookee here! Betcha had onea these!" roared Dr. Death, pointing down towards his groin. The nurse mistakenly looked and then blushed a bright shade of red, turning away, his fellow mates exploding with laughter.  
  
Seizing the opportunity of temporary release from supervision, Dr. Death began to rip at the skin on his hands. All he could see was that they were polluted with dark brown dirt. He slammed the soap bar against his skin, rubbing it hard against the dirt that was in his mind, trying to somehow wash it off, although it never seemed to go away. Blood began to seep from the wounds as he only made them worse, the water blending with the crimson liquid and flowing down the drain. His mind could feel the pain but blocked it out, centering on the dirt that needed to be washed away, needed to be abolished. His range grew wider, moving from his hands up his arms and to his torso, going in a frenzy of slashing his skin and trying to wash off the dirt.  
  
"Whoaho, Charry's gone mad!"  
  
This one sentence prompted the nurse to look back in the direction of Dr. Death, only to find the Techo bleeding from quite possibly every place on his body, and continuing to damage himself. Giving a yell of concern, he ran over to Dr. Death and grabbed him by the bleeding, slashed-up arm. "Stop this, Charon! You're going to kill yourself!"  
  
"Fuck y'all.gotta clean.da dirt." groaned Dr. Death, and smashed the nurse in the face, knocking him aside temporarily. He continued with his work, clawing at his face, giving little whimpers of ecstasy. "GEDOFFA ME, FUCKIN' DIRT! FUCK Y'ALL!" The nurse, frightened as he was inexperienced, reached for the walkie talkie he had been given and began whining into it that he needed someone to restrain Charon in the shower room. In seconds, back up arrived, grabbing Dr. Death roughly by the arms.  
  
"GEDOFFA ME! I GOT RIGHTS! I GOT-" A sudden prick to the side of Dr. Death's neck made his eyes bug slightly, halting his speech. For a moment, his body seemed to contort inwards-and then fell limp, Dr. Death finding himself immersed in the blissful darkness that he had sought earlier that day.  
  
/Heard those stupid people talk about you again. I just have to laugh to keep from hurting bad./  
  
Consciousness did not come easily to Dr. Death. For the most part, it was because of a lack of desire to be awake-he almost had wished that the syringe needle they had stuck into his neck had been filled with air alone, killing him in perhaps not the most peaceful way, but still eliminating his life. Unfortunately, he was not quite that lucky, and awoke to the same sunlight, although muted. The shades seemed to have been drawn closed while he had been unconscious, and it was clearly already the next morning. Yes, he verified his guess by looking over to the bed stand to find the small plastic cup with pills already all set up. His breakfast was already set out as well, left with only a spoon-and another meal as well: lunch.  
  
"Holy shit.how strong dey knock me out?" muttered Dr. Death, rubbing his eyes groggily. There seemed to be some kind of commotion outside his door, however, that he could hear even through the steel reinforced doors required for the asylum. He quieted himself, listening intently to the two voices, one clearly the nurse that had served him breakfast yesterday (and all the days before) and the other voice familiar. Dr. Death could not put a voice to a name, however, so merely listened to the context of the conversation.  
  
"I'm sorry, ma'am, I know you arranged for three o' clock, but something came up yesterday.he nearly ripped himself to shreds, and he's still sleeping right now. We cannot, with legal perspective in mind, as well as your welfare, allow you to visit him-"  
  
"Listen, sister, I'm not scared of someone I had previously worked with for over three years. If he has at least a shred of his memory, he isn't going to rip me to pieces," shot back the other voice icily. "Now open the door. If I get slashed to pieces by plastic ware, I won't sue. You have my word." There was an uncomfortable silence that followed, and then the jingling of keys, the noise coming closer. Dr. Death leaned forward in his bed, the sheets just barely holding him in place. He could hear the nurse grumble something about punks and their stupidity, and then the click of a lock could be heard, immediately followed by the door nearly being bust open.  
  
"Charry!" came the familiar voice, and immediately Dr. Death was able to connect a face with a name, although the face had been, in many respects greatly changed: Rose, galloping delighted. She threw her hooves around Dr. Death's neck, who was certainly very shocked. For no longer was Rose the color of her namesake-indeed, a more suitable name would be Ebony, as for one reason or another she had chosen to change her color from a cheery pink color to a much more desolate black color.  
  
"Uh.Rosie?" he muttered into her mane, which was basically suffocating him. "Urrmmmph." Her compassion was short-lived, however, thankfully for Dr. Death's breathing. Pulling backwards, she pinned him to the bed with her hooves on both his shoulders, which struck pain through him, for he still had healing injuries from yesterday there. She snorted out a great gust of wind from her nostrils, her eyebrow downturned.  
  
"What's your idea, Charon Thanatos? Just leaving me to handle the Adoption Center by myself one day? Without even giving me a clue as to where you had been? It took me all of these three years just to find you. You could have at least left a number!" Rose shouted into his face, her eyes burning angrily. "It's not been easy with just one person handling everything!"  
  
"Heh heh.gladja missed me, Rosie," he said, grinning sheepishly, although it was half-cringe from pain. "Same goes fer you." He swallowed, hoping not to be too obvious. His heart was hammering in his chest, seeming to want to burst out of his ribcage and sing insane opera tunes. He managed to keep it within the confines of his chest however, although his pulse probably soared to astronomical heights. Just seeing Rose had stimulated him-he hoped that she hadn't noticed the slight bulge in his groin area. "So what's wit da new look?"  
  
"Oh, this," said Rose, calming down. She released Dr. Death from the death lock she had him in and stood by the bedside. She flicked some of the black strands of her mane. "I thought I could go for a change."  
  
"Change indeed, heh. Not very.er, Rosie, iffin y'know whut I mean."  
  
"Pfft. You were the one always telling me that being the optimist was highly overrated. I guess you were right," said Rose with a shrug of her shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, Dr. Death could see the nurse looming in the distance, a disapproving look on her face. She obviously had taken Rose for first appearances-which wouldn't have been so bad if Rose hadn't been so altered from how Dr. Death last remembered her. "So what did you run away to a place like this for? You weren't crazy, if I recall correctly. Wanted the free food? And what's this about slashing yourself up into pieces in a shower room?"  
  
"Long, long story, Rosie-longer'n I have time fer," giggled Dr. Death nervously.  
  
"Well, obviously it happened-what with those bandages all over your face. And I have the whole day off, Charry-made sure I had one of those recruits fill in for me the whole way. So spill."  
  
"Well, firs' tings firs'.ya got some cigarettes?" asked Dr. Death, a pleading look in his eyes. Rose shook her head.  
  
"I haven't changed so much as to take up that dirty habit of yours. And since you left, I haven't had any in my pockets if you, for some miraculous reason, forgot to stop at the gas station and pick up a carton. And if they've taken away your cigarettes, GOOD FOR THEM-they were going to give you lung cancer eventually. You knew that cancer was in your family and you still smoke them. You were always the most stubborn fool," said Rose, already getting angry again. Dr. Death held up his hands in defense, blinking furiously. For some reason, he felt as if the roles had been reversed-whereas he usually had been the one having to be calmed by Rose, it was he now that was calming Rose.  
  
"Calm it down, Rosie-I jus' ask'd fer some smokes. An' as fer these marks, it's nothin'.jus' a lil' outburst of.er, cleanliness," explained Dr. Death, not wanting to tell the full truth. Even then he desired soap to clean his hands with. Rose, however, did not seem to be terribly concerned with the details. Another out of the ordinary thing for Rose-usually she would've milked him from every single last detail. It wasn't as if this didn't annoy him though-it just struck him as peculiar. "Heh, yeah, free food-better'n the shit I buy at home," fibbed Dr. Death, feigning a smile.  
  
"You could've just mooched off me, you know. I wouldn't have minded. You didn't have to go and get yourself COMMITTED."  
  
"Ahhh, fuck dat, Rosie, dem Neopets don' like me anyway-whut's duh point? Dey rather have me'n here, safe'n soun' till duh rain came down, den supposedly beatin' their abandon'd bruthas and sistas in the pound," retorted Dr. Death bitterly. "And okay, maybe.just maybe.I'ma lil' depress'd, eh?"  
  
"Depression does not equal insanity."  
  
"You tink deez bums know dat? I kin act as insane as I want-dey don' know da difference. See, dat's duh great ting about insanity-nobody can determine whether yer lyin' or not."  
  
"But ripping yourself up in a shower room?"  
  
"Hey, all parta duh act, eh?" said Dr. Death, holding out his hands innocently. Rose gave him a suspicious look, but didn't question further. "Whatcha say ya get me some release? Y'know, jus' a walk `round the area.I could show ya `round. Not much ta see.it is an ASYLUM af'trall. Catch up 'n all on all da shit I've missed at dat fun lil' place." Rose obliged, and trotted out of the room to retrieve the nurse, still standing in the doorway glaring at her with a venomous stare. Dr. Death could only watch her in half wonderment, trying to fill in mentally what had happened between now and when he had left-what had brought Rose to become what she had now. His imagination, however, was not quite creative enough to find a reasonable explanation for such a drastic transformation.  
  
Rose, however, was focused on her task, and trotted back over to Charon. "Well, the bitch put up a good fight, but I have persuasion skills on my side. Now, c'mon, Charry, we have quite a deal of catching up to do."  
  
/Their simple minds just cannot seem to understand: You are neurotic and depressed It doesn't mean that you're sad/  
  
Dr. Death was a bit surprised to hear Rose's side of the story. According to her, she had taken up the reigns of his position when he had left, and managed her own position at the same time. Oddly enough, he remembered her as someone who could barely keep up with her own job, a procrastinator in every right, and horrible at finishing things he had started. Hell, he hadn't even known her to finish any of the meals he had seen her eat. He decided against making any snide comments-for the most part, he was afraid of the new Rose-she spoke with severe irritation in her voice and constantly running off in a tangent to complain about the way that people treated her.  
  
"It would've been a lot easier if you hadn't left." That was about the fifth time Dr. Death had heard the comment, and found his urge for nicotine becoming stronger with each repetition of the sentence. His hands were shaking at his side from growing withdrawal. The fact that he had been a self-proclaimed chain smoker in his day didn't help much. Rose stopped for a moment by the pond. "Are you sure you don't need to sleep or something? You're shaking like a dead leaf in an autumn wind."  
  
"N-nah, I'm fine.jus' haven' been outside in a while," lied Dr. Death. He wasn't fine, and he had been outside many times that week, via a forced walk by the damned nurse.  
  
"Nothing positive about being outside anyway. Would just dry up your skin, Charry-and the sun makes me too hot," complained Rose, her tail swishing back and forth, trying to fan herself. "And anyway, it's not like people outside are any better." She gritted her teeth, grinding them as if she were chewing a particularly difficult blade of grass. "In fact, people just get worse."  
  
"Whut is dis, ya gotta storm cloud perm'nently fixed over yer head?"  
  
"Let's just say your job is cursed to turn the worker into a fucker like yourself," said Rose with a roll of her eyes.  
  
"Touché," grimaced Dr. Death. "Er.yer not.depress'd `er anyting, are ya?"  
  
"Cheery ol' Rosie?" mocked Rose, imitating Dr. Death's grating New York cabbie accent. "Bein' da depress'd lil' chica?" She poked her hooves in her cheeks to show dimples. "Of COURSE not, Charry. I'm just as peppy as ever. Can't you tell?" she commented sarcastically, kicking her hoof through some dust on the floor. The sudden lifting of dust made Dr. Death notice the dirt matted into her fur, as well as her mane. It wasn't like Rose to not take care of her mane and fur with the utmost care. She had always been so paranoid of dirt before-and ironically, Dr. Death was now.  
  
"Ya mane is dirty," he said, swallowing. His hands began twitching even harder, rubbing against each other, beginning to itch at his own hands, reminded of just how dirty his hands were. Soap. He needed soap.  
  
/You walk around oblivious to everything/  
  
"Don't remind me," she began, and then began to rant off into her own little world. Dr. Death's attention had been pulled away from her by the sudden amount of Puppyblews flooding the area, coming in all sizes and colors, trotting in from seemingly nowhere. They did not look friendly at all-no, they looked quite hostile, their mouths foaming, coming closer and closer. The courtyard was overrun with the little beasts, and they were approaching him and Rose without anything to fear, although Rose seemed oblivious to their presence. He looked down to his hands, only to find they were caked with thick dirt. His eyes widened, and he began pulling at the dirt, trying to get it off, all the while backing away from the incoming Puppyblews, his eyes large in fear.  
  
".and so I-Charry? Charry-oh God, Charry, what are you doing to your hands?!" shrieked Rose, backing away from Dr. Death's bleeding hands, his crimson blood dripping to the ground. The Puppyblews ran to lap it up, and then turned their attention to Rose.  
  
"No! No!" he shouted at the Puppyblews, kicking at them furiously. "Get `way, ya beasts! Get `WAAAAAY!!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, pulling off a large chunk of his skin. He seemed oblivious to the pain he was causing himself, however, beating at the Puppyblews, becoming overwhelmed by their wrath. Gasping, he fell to the ground, the Puppyblews grasping his legs and pulling him down into their ranks. He cracked his head across the ground, finding that his vision had become blurry, and then allowed himself to succumb to the black abyss.  
  
/You wear that party dress and black mascara Like you're queen for the day./  
  
"Will he be all right?"  
  
"Of course, dear. Why you stayed over the night is beyond me, especially for such a.well, to put it frankly, a son of a bitch like Dr. Thanatos. He's been one of our more.difficult patients. Anything he can get his hands on he uses to slash himself up like a piece of meat."  
  
"Are you serious?"  
  
"Yes, dear. We have him on all the anti-depressants we can find. He also has.two very serious conditions, added together which make for a very.bad situation. He has what we call obsessive compulsive disorder-he NEEDS to clean himself, and even when he is clean, he doesn't think he's clean enough. He'll clean himself until he's raw and bleeding. The second condition is schizophrenia-he sees things that aren't there. For the most part, he has reported Puppyblews, or his skin deteriorating from being so dirty. He's just not.SAFE, Rose. He's dangerous."  
  
"I worked with him for three hellish years. Don't tell me I don't know whether he's dangerous or not."  
  
The conversation shot back and forth between the two, although Dr. Death could not see either figure. They were in his room, no doubt, but assumed that he was asleep, so it was time enough for them to converse. Dr. Death, however, was very much awake-lying on his side, they couldn't see his eyes wide open, though slightly vacant, his mind only focused on their words, spoken in hushed whispers so as not to wake him up. Fat lot of good that did.  
  
"Who do you think you are, Ms. Rose? Prancing into this place with only a day in advance warning, what with your negative attitude and dark looks. You're not benefiting the patient-you're probably making him worse!"  
  
"He has a name, you know. And I aim to stay here until he's better."  
  
"What is your deal, lady? Have you a sweetness for this sad excuse for a man?"  
  
The sound of hooves against flesh could be heard clear across the hallway, Rose's back hooves connecting squarely with the nurse's jaw. The nurse, stunned by the suddenness of the action, stumbled backwards, nearly knocking over a lamp on a small table that stood behind her. Grasping her chin and trying to move her jaw to assure that it wasn't broken, she could only gawk as Rose closed in on her, her black eyes blazing with hatred.  
  
"Never, EVER call him that again. Or I'll make sure your whole skull is crushed with your jaw, toots. Got it?" said Rose between clenched teeth. The nurse, eyes wide and shimmering with incoming tears, slipped out from under the wrath of Rose, running out the door and slamming it behind her, the clicking of her heels against the hard tile fading into nothing. Rose waited until they had turned to nothing, and turned to Dr. Death's bed.  
  
/Tell me why, you want to be blind? I don't wanna be normal like you. I know now, everyday, I get closer to the place inside where I can be normal too./  
  
"Damn you, Charon.why couldn't you tell me.why couldn't I just fall in love with a normal, handsome Uni.damn you, God," she muttered, shaking her head.  
  
The sudden sentence uttered by Rose struck Dr. Death nearly paralyzed. His body felt like it was made of stones under the sweat-stained covers. Although he had always had a slight suspicion that Rose had perhaps had feelings other than friends for him, he was pretty sure that it had all been another figment of his imagination. Though he had hated to admit it while he had been working with her, Rose had been growing on him as well- more than in one sense. When he had finally came to the brink of his breaking point and he had decided to leave, the last thing in his mind was letting Rose find him-he didn't want her to see him in the condition he had so long hid from her. He had been convinced it would only make her even more distasteful of him.and so had left her alone in the dark.  
  
Yet the situation, apparently, as a lot different than Dr. Death had originally seen it for. Things were much different on the inside looking out-the one sentence having dragged him in. Suddenly, he jolted up from the fetal position he had been in, stretching his legs and throwing himself out of the bed after Rose, his heart feeling as if it were floating up his throat and choking him. "No! Don' leave me!"  
  
He practically tackled her to the ground, throwing his arms around her neck and latching on like a leech, his arms locked tight in the position, burying his face into her mane, not caring about the dirt that brushed against his face. Rose gave a cry of alarm, but halted it immediately to see Dr. Death on top of her, her eyelashes blinking rapidly. "Y-you heard everything?" she said, her eyes turning from shock to almost betrayal. "You were awake this whole time-and you couldn't even give a slight indication of your consciousness?"  
  
/I will never be normal like you./  
  
"Shuttup, Rose-'sides, iffin it wuz normal'ty ya want'd, y'should've gone fer dat Uni." His arms managed to relax, but only temporarily as his hands shifted to cradle her face, his gray eyes absorbed in hers. For a blissful moment, they were immersed in each other's eyes, each other's souls. That moment, however, was followed by one of equal ecstasy-for the first time, their eyes were not the only things that met, but their lips as well, eyelids slowly closing. Adrenaline shot through every vein in Dr. Death's body, and now he knew what he had been missing-what he had ran away from, replacing it all with sterile white walls, being watched as he showered and nurses that woke him when he didn't want to.  
  
Unfortunately, nothing sweet lasts very long-and for that situation it held true as well as the door was suddenly thrown open, the nurse and a handful of doctors interrupting their intimate moment. "Ms. Rose, please- the patients need their REST and THERAPY, they have no time for sexual encounters with Neopets who will only make them increasingly depressed," snapped the nurse, her speech a tad altered by the blow to the jaw, which she still held tenderly. "We will have to ask you to leave the premises at this time."  
  
"Up yours, bitch!" shouted Dr. Death, lifting up a choice finger for the nurse to see. But before he could protest further, the doctors, like henchmen to the nurse, swooped down on him like greedy vultures on an opened carcass, wrenching his arms from Rose and pulling him backwards onto his feet. The two other doctors gently handled Rose, much less hostile with her-still, she resisted. Though she didn't knock them out with her hooves, she butted them off forcedly with her head. She was not liberated of their grasps for long though-they grabbed her more roughly the second time.  
  
"Ms. Rose, we really must escort you."  
  
"Escort this," she snorted, and kicked one of the doctors aside with her hooves. Unfortunately, the second doctor happened to be a Skeith, and was very unhappy with the way that things were going. Grumbling something about how girls should learn their place in society, he grabbed her by the back hooves and held her nearly upside down. Rose gave a shriek, and Dr. Death watched in disbelief, unable to comprehend that anyone would go as far as to hang an innocent person upside down just to get them to leave a building.  
  
"I guess I will escort that," snarled the Skeith, and began to take her away.  
  
"No! No, bastid! I'll kill you!" screamed Dr. Death at the top of his lungs, his eyes suddenly gleaming with pure insanity. The Puppyblews appeared out of nowhere, crowding the area, but Dr. Death's concerns were not with a sabotage from his imagination-he wanted Rose back, and if he needed to rip apart the Skeith to do so, he would. A sudden surge of energy spread throughout his body, much like the energy bursts he usually got everyday-but this one seemed more intense than ever, a sudden grant of inTecho powers. Exploding from the doctor's arms, he shot forward towards the Skeith, murder in his eyes accompanying the insanity.  
  
His hands worked by themselves, seizing the Skeith by his thick throat, his comparatively small hands digging into his throat and half- strangling, half opening up his vital blood vessels with his reduced nails, having enough force to break skin nonetheless. The doctors had seen violence before, of course, but were shocked by the outburst, temporarily frozen. The Skeith gurgled, trying to breathe, but ultimately failing, tipping backwards as Dr. Death attempted to choke the life out of him, his lips pulled back, revealing a wild set of jagged teeth, his eyes staring, unblinking into the dying eyes of the Skeith.  
  
Rose, having been dropped, watched in terror as Dr. Death transformed from a relatively tranquil, if potty-mouthed, Techo to one in a wild frenzy, almost half-Jetsam, a pure killer, no strings attached. She realized that she had seen only a fraction of Dr. Death's loss of sanity the previous day when he had ripped open his hands without a second thought. He was, indeed, dangerous-not only a hazard to himself, but to others around him. She could feel hot tears running down her face, feeling somewhat cheated. Shaking her head, she began to whisper no, suddenly escalating louder and louder.  
  
"Stop! Stop!" she wailed, pounding her hooves against the ground. "Charry.oh God, Charry, what have you become? What am I doing here, what am I doing like this? Dammit, it's all your fault! You ran away.you made me become this Prozac-taking fucker! I loved you, and I love you, and I don't have a fucking clue what my feelings for you are anymore! I just wanted us to be happy together! I just wanted to love.and to be loved back! By you!"  
  
Dr. Death, for a moment, continued with his task, seeming oblivious to her words. But gradually, his grip loosened on the Skeith's neck, who had turned a faint shade of blue from his normal yellow, already having lost consciousness. His soul seemed to stand back from the situation, horrified at what he had done, unknowing to what had happened while the beast within had grasped his body. He tried to talk, but ended in hopeless stuttering. His mind was twirling within his head, his stomach churning. His stomach became terribly nauseous, and finally he could not hold it in any longer.  
  
Turning his head aside, he vomited, emptying all of the contents of his stomach onto the floor next to the unconscious Skeith. Images wavering in front of him, he toppled to the ground within his own vomit, finding himself in unconsciousness for the third time in three days.  
  
/You walk around oblivious to everyone I see you walking slow and simple Underneath the big, black sun./  
  
Dr. Death ignored the frame and half of the building that obstructed some of his view, staring out the window with the same intensity that he would have without things blocking his view. The sun, a great orb of flame, sunk in the sky behind the scene he observed. That scene consisted of two people, three if you counted the cab driver-the first was the nurse, looking as if she were apologizing in a rather grudging manner to the other figure, which happened to be Rose, a tired look apparent all the way from where Dr. Death stood. She gave a nod towards the nurse and began to enter the taxi. Dr. Death's shoulder blades crunched together, his jaws tightening.  
  
'Please.just letter look dis way.just once,' begged Dr. Death's mind, his palms sweaty under the bandages that bound them as if they were mummified. He felt the tears dripping down his face, clinging to the sides of his cheeks and then dropping down to the ground, but paid no mind to them-he wept silently, a urge inside of his left unfulfilled by Rose's blatant ignorance of his presence in the window. 'She kin see me.I know she can.'  
  
/Tell me why, you want to be blind? I don't wanna be normal like you./  
  
But no. The taxi door shut solidly, and Dr. Death felt as if he had been slapped viciously in the face. He watched forlornly as the taxi pulled away from the side of the building, a satisfied look on the nurse's face as it pulled away, moving towards the great orb that was called the sun. Although his eyesight was significantly blurred by the unstoppable tears, he strained to see Rose as the taxi disappeared into the blazed red-and found that he could not.  
  
Filled with a deep sense of cold, an apathy that bound itself around him comfortably like a familiar security blanket, he moved back like an android to the bed, falling backwards like a stiff board, staring blankly at the ceiling.  
  
/I know now, everyday, I get closer To the place inside where I can be complacent-/  
  
A nurse timidly opened the door, different from the one that usually visited Dr. Death. "Dr. Thanatos?" she asked. When she got no response, she allowed herself in. She too held a tray, containing his dinner in small little bowls and pouches as always, oddly strategic. "Dr. Thanatos, are you awake?"  
  
Dr. Death closed his eyes, moisturizing them. 'She didn' look back.' His mouth drew out in a long thin line. He found that nothing inside of him was settled-because she hadn't had the same longing to look as they left, he felt as if someone had opened him and carved out all of his insides. He was a hollowed, dying stump, evident by the graying hairs on his head. There was nothing left in this world that could make him feel satisfied-nothing left to live for.  
  
/Yes I get closer To the place inside where I can be sedated-/  
  
"Dr. Thanatos?"  
  
He wished he could've just been normal, just like everyone else. Maybe then he would've had a chance with her. Maybe he was just thinking to much. Maybe he should let them drug him, allow himself to slip back into the depressing solitude of darkness. For a moment, he paid slight mind to the nurse-only uttering a few words. "Leave it on da table."  
  
"Dr. Thanatos, I must-"  
  
"Leave it on da table," he repeated gravely. The nurse, apparently more frightened than she even displayed, nodded hurriedly and placed the dinner tray hastily on the counter, trotting out as fast as she could, locking the door behind her. Dr. Death reveled in the quietness, interrupted only by the occasional scream of a fellow insane person. His eyes wandered back to the window, and his mind wandered back to the painful memory, a stake in his heart. He could not help but dwell on it-it stuck to his mind like an annoying piece of gum, unable to be ripped off.  
  
/Yes I get closer To the place inside/  
  
He lifted up his hand, stroking it with cleansing fingers. His eyes looked at it mildly, hardly noticing that it did not seem to be so caked with dirt-but even slightly clean, if he even dared venture there. Turning his hand around, he touched the inside of his palm gingerly, tracing it down to his wrist. Putting one finger on his main vein, he moved his finger along the vein, able to trace it all the way to where his elbow bent. Suddenly, it became very clear what he needed to do-what he needed to do to free himself from this hellish world, from an existence he didn't want. He knew what he needed to do, and he knew he had what he needed to do it.  
  
A small smile crept across his face. "Normality."  
  
/Where I can be normal too Where I can be normal like you/  
  
"Dr. Thanatos?" The nurse who had dealt with Dr. Death in the previous three days and days before knocked on the door. "It's time for lights out." There was no response from inside the room, and she screwed her lips into a frown. "Dr. Thanatos, you know the rules-you shouldn't sleep until we've called lights out. And if you do, you need to report it to us." Even as she rapped on the door enough to wake the dead themselves, she got no response. Giving a loud sigh, predicting that this was from the Uni leaving, she fumbled for her keys and finally found the right one, plunging it into the door, opening it.  
  
What she saw sent shocks down her spine, almost making her faint. "Sweet Jesus," she said, holding her hand to her breast, her other one covering her mouth. Her eyes could not be removed from the scene, her heart desiring to explode from her chest. "D.docTOR!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, panic in her voice. "DOCTOR! DOCTOR COME HERE!"  
  
A doctor nearby who had been doing check-ins as well strode over to her side, convinced she was overreacting, rolling his eyes. "Look, miss, you don't need-" Silenced followed, and then he gave a gagging noise, turning around and running towards the bathroom, holding his hand protectively over his mouth.  
  
Hanging from the wall, noosed neatly by a makeshift sheet rope, hung the body Dr. Death.  
  
/Maybe normal like you. I can be normal like you./ 


End file.
